Open Book
by Tigerlily96
Summary: It takes something big for him to finally be an open book to her. Pure BA


**I got the idea for this short fic by listening to the song "Panic Prone" By Chevelle. Not so much the words, but the sound of the music. I guess you kind of have to think of it as a soundtrack for a movie. So, I would recommend listening to the song while you read if you can. Well, enough of my ramblings. On to the story...**

** I own non of these characters (I wish) I'm just borrowing them, please don't sue Mr. Wolf!**

I hate it when my thoughts drift like this. I mean, we're on the third floor of a vacant apartment building, scanning an empty room for clues. How much worse could my timing be? Oh, well, I can't reprimand myself too much. I'm fairly used to my restless mind by now. Four years of working with Robert Goren will do that to you. You just kind of have to let those thoughts linger in back until you can ponder them later.

Which is what I'm doing now. Bobby's by the window, running his finger across the ledge, picking up those invisible clues only he can see, the gears shifting relentlessly in his mind. Of course there's not many other places to look. I wasn't lying when I said the room was empty. Seriously, there's nothing. No pictures, no curtains, nothing. The perp barely even left us dust bunnies to chase.

Then again, Bobby could find a clue even in that. I can just imagine his mind right now, kind of like a never ending book, filled with every picture, taste, smell, anything that he's ever catalogued away in there and as we speak, he's flipping back and forth through the pages until that precise moment when he finds what he's been searching for.

Like most days, that's what brought on today's straying thoughts. I can't seem to help myself. Every time he combs a crime scene, scrutinizing every detail, flipping back and forth between the pages, there's always a question that comes to my mind; Is there a page somewhere up there for me? Does he catalogue me away with the facts he holds so dear?

You see, if my mind were like a book, half the chapters would be dedicated to the telling of him, naming off each of his little quirks and such. Things like how he never seems to have a clean shave or the look of triumph he gets when something clicks at the precise time.

Yes, all of these would be tucked away for future reference.

Which is what they should be right now; future reference. Shaking away my previous thoughts, I look back to where Bobby's standing in the middle of the room. He's running his fingers across his mouth, not really focusing on anything. (A classic sign of having all the clues, just not quite sure where to place them yet.)

He stops though after a moment and a look passes over his face I can't quite read, only that something is definately wrong. Giving a quick glance to me, he starts slowly for the door, then proceeds out to the hallway.

Have you ever seen one of those movies where something big happens and everything is in slow motion, making evey step, every breath dramatic?

Well, that's the only way I can think to describe how the next few moments come to pass.

Suddenly, Bobby's back inside, his eyes wide as he runs to me. My mind barely registers as he grabs my hand, yelling at me to come on. Honestly, it was if time had slowed and him yanking me down the stairs was played before my very eyes. I didn't even know why he was doing it. At that point all I could think about was his fingers intertwined in mine, pulling me away.

The blissful ignorance didn't last long though, the blast from above can be thanked for that. The force of the explosion pulled my legs from underneith me, relinquishing my hold on him as well. Dust clouds my eyes and I can hear the plaster fall around me. Temporarily blinded, the panic starts to rise within me until his reassuring fingers grip my own and he's leading me once again, step by step.

Another blast rings out from above, the ground trembles, but we keep running down. One more flight of stairs until he pulls me down into some corner, debris falling around us.

Somehow, as we're crouched down, my hands have found their way to the lapels of his jacket and my head is buried into his shirtfront.

Yet another blast and Bobby's grip around me is tighter, shielding me from things falling from above. Every brick, every pebble, even the dust can be heard as it descends to the ground.

It's amazing to me how all of this can be going on, yet the most noticible thing to me is the rise and fall of my partner's chest, or the pounding of his heart, and even his cologne as it mingles with his body heat.

And then there's the quiet. After everything, the eerie silence where there's nothing moving at all. It's at this point I figure he'll let me go. He doesn't though. We just continue to sit there, clinging to the other, listening to our breaths as they break through the seemingly tangible silence.

I don't now how much time had passed before I dared open my eyes. It was around the same time Bobby began to pull his arms from around me. I could feel his hands as they slowly drifted away from my waist, yet they never left me completely.

His head still rested close to mine; It was then I noticed his breath whisper through my hair onto my neck.

It was just one of those moments of shock, when you slowly regain your senses after having lost them for some time.

His head gradually pulled away from it resting place on my shoulder and I soon found my self staring at him wordlessly. His hand found it's way to my hair, moving tentatively as if he was afraid I'd break at the slight contact.

It was then my eyes strayed upwards and I could feel his gaze following my own.

Between the dust, there was obscured daylight, nothing left of the floor we had been standing on before, only the rubble around us.

I couldn't seem to take my eyes away. I sat insanely mesmerized by the fact that we had been standing there only minutes before and now there was just nothing.

As if sensing my reckless thoughts, Bobby's hand had shifted from my hair to the side of my face, pulling my gaze back to his. I almost didn't recognize his gravelly voice when he asked if I was okay. When I somehow managed to nod my head, I found his arms around me, pulling me to him once again.

I suppose having the floor you were just standing on blown up would normally leave your mind a little preoccupied with more important things. Not me though, because right now my thoughts have strayed away yet again. My arms have snaked around Bobby's waist and he's just holding onto me tightly. New chapters are being formed in my mind right then, describing every detail of what it's like being there in his arms.

I almost want to scream no when he finally begins to pull away, but I stop when I meet his eyes once more. I sit frozen as he studies my face, seemingly taking in every detail. It's like he's recalling everything, making sure their all in their proper places. Once more, I can almost see the pages in his mind flipping back and forth, but this time it's not for a case.

It's for me.

"Alex."

He simply said my name, his eyes no longer shifting over me. I can't say anything when he reaches up to place his hand on the side of my face. Even my breath is stalled as he slowly pulls my face to his own. And when his lips softly met mine, I could only sit there motionless, reveling in the finally open pages of his mind.


End file.
